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As it's been throughout the winter, the Sarum castle's main hall is well-stocked with both people and food, the Earl offering his generous hospitality to all his many guests, vassal knights and other visitors alike. It is a chaotically crowded sort of place as many of the visitors are staying here as well, if not much longer, chests with their gear and effects tucked away along the walls. But at meal time, the focus is around the hearth, where pots of thick stew are warming and spits of meat roasting. The abundance of food suits the towering Sir Cyndeyrn quite well, and he's not shy to eat his fill, scooping up stew in a bread bowl and cutting slices of meat off with his knife. It's not an era of fancy place settings, exactly!

Joining at the feast, Acwel does much of the same as the gigantic Dinton, though he probably eats a few portions less. He is content to pour his tankard as much ale as he desires, however, drinking almost as soon as it's been poured him. "Sir Cyndeyrn," he greets the other knight in between bites or chugs, his bowl never less than half-full and his tankard most definitely never empty.

Seated beside Cyndeyrn is his sister, who every well could be his exact opposite in appearance. Where he is a giant of a man, Lysanor is a small thing. Delicate in contrast to her brother's ox-like build. So even now, as he devours his food so heartily, the tiny young lady beside him with the shock of auburn hair picks at hers in a more graceful manner. Of course, there are other knights and the sort abound and the Dinton lady looks attentively at several of the side conversations that may be going on at various sections of the large room. "I do wonder if the Baverstocks will be making an appearance today. The last I had spoke to Sir Bryce was just after the," her words come out thoughtfully, before continuing on, "bandit situation. I had also heard that his brother has arrived in Sarum as well. And you know that they have always offered up their arms for you." Realizing than the Lord of Woodford is here as well, she graces Acwel with a polite smile and a nod, "It seems I had not noticed your arrival, good Sir Acwel."

Walking around, Sir Uwain has entered and immediately started looking behind tapestries and into the fireplace. Searching for something that mandates that he catch it by surprise or perhaps just to look at it for a long moment, like a strange creature that has hidden away in the walls. He looks here and there, and when sated that nothing lurks in the cobwebs, he finally goes over to nod his head and approach the others in good manners. "Good evening," he greets all and joins the others. Filling a tankard immediately, he smooths his beard a few times before he takes a drink and looks a bit doltishly at the others. Good natured. Still an occasional glance at the shadows, however.

Failed.
Uwain checked his recognize of 5, he rolled 9.

"Ah, Sir Acwel, good to see you. I hope all is well." The greeting comes quite naturally, at east after Cyndeyrn's last mouthful is fully chewed and washed down, the young man having some sense of manners despite his appetite. "I was just telling some of the others here," and he gestures vaguely at some of the collection of assorted visitors gathered around the fire, "About a trip the Earl has asked me make for him, up toward Tilshead." Explaining this, he glances toward his sister, nodding along. "I had hoped to catch Bryce about, either here or, well, I suppose on the way back toward Dinton if I may check in at home before I set out, though it might add a day's ride back and forth. I figured he might want to come along, since it's a trip I'd hate make alone. You saw how bad some of the banditry has gotten yourself," and then he gestures at Acwel, "Both of you." Although the bunch talking are clearly all a bit of a bunch, this seems no barrier to Uwain's arrival, and the Dinton knight makes a less than entirely salute, waving one of his food-encumbered hands to the approaching figure. "Good eve, ah, Sir Uwain isn't it? Please do come and join if you'd like."

"Lady Lysanor, a pleasure to see you here once again," Acwel starts with the daintier Dinton, placing his bowl in front of hers before setting his chair back and setting down, offering his now free hand towards the noblewoman, palm up, of course. "A trip, you say, good Sir?" This, to the elder, and bigger, Dinton. "Tilshead. Seems intriguing. Has he told you what it might be about?" He asks of the fellow knight. Mention of banditry has the Woodford lord nodding once. "Indeed. If you need assistance, I will gladly lend it."

Rumors of a knight seeking assistance with something have drawn Syndra's curiosity. The Baverstock lady arrives at the castle stepping in with poise and grace. Despite her lacking height she stands up straight looking perfectly composed as she does a sweep of the room with her eyes to see who is here. Wandering further in she calmly approaches the group that are speaking among themselves. She is dressed elegantly, her gown modestly cut and made of layers of flowing black and red fabric, her ebony curls falling neatly down her back over the fabric of the dress. She watches those present calmly her gaze falling upon Acwel a moment and she offers him a small smile before looking the the others, studying them now.

"I know for certain that he is fit and ready for whatever more you wish to throw at him, brother" Lysanor says in light jest regarding Bryce's recent injury and his quick recovery. Her brow furrows gently when she adds in, "It's troubling that the news of bandits and nefarious creatures of the sort are becoming far more frequent. I know, surely, the winter and hunger bring out the worst in them and I can only trust that now as the snow slowly begins to thaw for spring, that we shall be hearing less and less of these acts." With Acwel gaining her attention once more, that pleasant smile remains on her lips, her eyes upon him as he moves in closer to where she and her brother are seated. Then once the man's hand is extended, she automatically extends her own slender arm, "Yes, it's a pleasure as always, Sir Acwel." Her eyes keep contact with his, then overhearing some of their conversation, she does comment, "That would be splendid. With how well you all worked together the last time, I feel confident that you will succeed in this endeavor as well." Cyndeyrn now speaking out to other man in the distance, though she does recognize him, somewhat, the man's home being a neighbor of theirs, she watches him carefully for a moment, before extending that pleasant smile in his direction as well, "Good Day, Sir."

Not wanting to intrude, the large bearded Uwain simply smiles and returns all appropriate pleasantries, but a bit late at times, and with a small belch as well. He quickly does his best to cover it up and then goes back to drinking. Scratching at his cheek a little, he prods the nearest fire with a heavy boot and inquires, "If you have need of my sword or lance, Sirs, I can be counted on, any lack elsewhere aside, I am invested in the well being of the realm," he tells them, this mostly directed to Cynderyn who seemed to be the most motivated to act in some way. He hadn't caught the exact plan, but he is ready to help, if needed. A pleasant smile on his face, he shifts from the fireplace toward the windows. Looking out, his restlessness is evident.

Meeting the Lady's gaze, Acwel presses his lips to her knuckles in a courtly kiss, smiling at her as he gently lets go of her hand, "I hope you have been well," he lets the Dinton lady know, the smile widening slightly as he reaches for the tankard, taking a sip. "Aye, I believe that as we work together, we become quite formidable. Which is good, for the good Earl couldn't be better served when it comes to his pious Christian knights."

He greets Syndra with a courtly bow of his head, afterward. "My lady de Baverstock, I hope you are doing well this day." And a glance to Uwain, who receives a knightly salute.

Cyndeyrn can only give a shrug of his admittedly broad shoulders as Acwel pushes him for more information. "Not in any great detail. Tilshead is held by a banneret named Sir Heward, one of our Lord's greater vassals, I suppose. The man has not been in attendance here," and he makes a demonstrative sweep of the hall itself with his meat-skewering eating knife, "for any of the feating or other festivities. Since he is an important vassal, and since there has been some emergence of banditry as we both witnessed, I take it that the Earl is concerned. But it may well be nothing. Really, I am just to go and check in with him, bring him word from the Earl and take any back, unless trouble is afoot." Now that Uwain has joined them and immediately offers assistance, he is quick to point out, "You may be doing little more than riding with me, as I think it wise to go with a full party, in case Tilshead is beset by bandits or some other trouble lurks on the road. But I know few enough knights of a stature like my own, and for that reason alone I would be happy to have you along." There is a bit of a grin when he puts it this way. Two big knights are better than one? "Ah, and here another neighbor, welcome," he will say, greeting Syndra in amiable fashion as she too approaches the knot around the hearth.

Her bright blue eyes lowering demurely, Lysanor watches in silence when the Woodford knight greets her with a chaste kiss upon the back of her hand, gaze lifting once the courtly deed is done, she offers up a warm smile to the man once more. Her small frame straightening as she shifts in her seat so that she faces forward to view the many luxuries being served, she isn't surprised that so many brave knights are eager and willing to take up arms on these missions that they know so little about. Her brother included. "One can only hope that Tilshead is faring well enough, despite the strange absence of the man. If anything, a patrol in that direction to see whether he may have strayed or been delayed by weather would be worth while." To this she nods slowly, but it her brother is far more experienced in such matters. When attention is brought Syndra now, Lysanor's features brighten up gently, "Lady Lysanor, I did not know that you were here as well. Are you here with your cousins, then?"

Uwain bows his head at Cynderyn, and he continues to prod the hearth with his foot to get the fire really going. He seems not to have the least bit of fear about fire, and in fact, probably acts a bit foolhardy. But it all comes to not, as he strides away again, pacing a little as he thinks about what he has heard from Cynderyn. Folding his hands around his tankard, he drinks hearty and admits, "All possible banditry to stop aside, I welcome a chance to ride and have purpose, as opposed to tilting for its own sake with a ring and a post. I have spent too many summers in my own thoughts. How long should we plan for the trip to take? I take it I should have provisions prepared for at least a day or two?" he asks, not really good at the whole geography thing. He speaks honestly and does not try to put some chivalrous deed to it, he names his motivation for what it is and smiles at the doing. Doing something is better than doing nothing.

"Well, Sir Cyndeyrn, you know you have my blade if you are in need of able-bodied knights to assist you." Acwel remarks to the larger Dinton, though his attention lingers on Lysanor for several moments, contemplating her words. "Perhaps, but I think for the man to not be present at any event is a sign that there might be some trouble afoot. Maybe banditry, but it is likely to be something else entirely, as well. We will find out when we are there."

"Although the weather is not the best for a casual outing, I agree it is good to be out and about, and with purpose. One can feel cooped up tucked away in the hall all the season," Cyndeyrn will now agree with Uwain. "Tilshead is a full day's ride itself, in normal conditions, and given the weather I might provision twice that to be cautious. Once there we should be able to resupply," yay more relying on another dude's hospitality! "so I would think that sufficient on the whole." And even then, two days food for the two of them might be an impressive haul itself. Nodding then at Acwel, he agrees, "If your own journey does not prevent it, of course I would value you at my side as ever. We have fought alongside before, after all."

Remaining quiet to allow the men to speak about these important issues, Lysanor returns to her meal, taking in bits of stew alongside a nice drink of wine. Though she may not say much, she remains ever attentive to the conversation, taking in information which she could very well learn from. Remembering something asked of her just days before, her attention returns to her brother now with her chin lifted in an attempt to make herself look all the more serious and perhaps even taller than she is. "Will my skills be needed for this mission, dearest brother? I know that I had rarely much to do in your raid of the bandit camp. I was merely curious if you would allow me to go as well."

Uwain is staring into his mug and listens as Lysanor offers to come along, he has no business interjecting, so he just listens and wiggles his nose a little to clear the hair of his beard out of his nose. Drinking the last of the mead from his tankard, he reaches in with a finger to wipe out a bit of the last bits of drink. Dipping it against his lips, he enjoys the last of it before he goes to pour a bit more. "Would anyone else like some more?" he asks, lifting the pitcher, he holds it out to refill others before he puts it down again.

Did Uwain say more? Cyndeyrn is a fan of the word, and readily holds out his own mug when the offer is made. "I do not think so, sister," he tells Lysanor, giving it just a brief thought. "The road is longer than the trip we made before, and the conditions likely to be harder on us all even if there is no actual trouble. And if we do… Well, regardless, you should be somewhere warm and safe. We've no need of most of your talents in Tilshead, I would think, since Sir Heward is a friend of the Earl's."

"Aye, it would pain me to have to kill a village's worth of blackguards to rescue you, Lady Lysanor, but I would if necessary," Acwel states, also offering his tankard up for Uwain since the Woodford knight always needs more ale. Ale that he's not paying for, especially. "All for the safety of the beauty of Dinton, of course."

It's not that Lysanor didn't expect these exact words from her brother, but for some reason she had hoped that she were wrong. So when Cyndeyrn informs her that her services would not be necessary for this upcoming task, her lips cannot help but form a petulant pout in response. She had tasted the excitement when they had taken on those bandits and now this. Despite her displeasure, however, she does state, "Of course, brother. You are right as always." Before her gaze looks towards Acwel now, deciding to confirm her position on his own task, "I hope that you will not change your mind regarding the 'Miracle' task, Sir Acwel." If she cannot go to one, then she will make certain that she can go on the other. And with Uwain offering drinks, though she was drinking wine just earlier, this time she refills her mug with whatever it is that the men are drinking. "Thank you, Sir Uwain."

Pouring for both Cyndeyrn, Lysanor and Acwel, Sir Uwain nods to them both and gives them a good tankard full, not being shy with the drinks. He then pours for himself and goes to replace the pitcher with one from a full sized barrel. Returning, he asks, "What is Lady Lysanor's talent?" he asks, genuinely curious as he goes to stand by the fire once again and puts his back to it, leaning across the mantle with one arm, and his tankard in the other.

Cyndeyrn is always somewhat wary when it comes to flattery aimed at his sister, even from friends, and so he takes Acwel's with a characteristically even-headed sort of look, and says quite simply on the matteR: "Better that she not be in need of any rescue in the first place." People can write heroic tales starring other people's darling sisters! Since Uwain asks a bit more, and she does as well about the other trip, he goes on to explain: "On the trip Sir Acwel is leading, to deal with a man who has stolen another man's son as his own, we are dealing not with bandits, but other knights and noblemen of an uncertain disposition. Diplomacy may be required, a lady's delicate sensibilities. This is what I mean of my sister's talents. A lady may find a peaceful solution when the knights are inclined only to swords." He shakes his head. "But I think this journey to Tilshead will have little to please or interest her, only cold and muck and perhaps some bad-tempered lawless men at the end of the trip, destined for a bloody end."

A reasonable enough way to describe womanly ways, though Sir Uwain likes to think he can be diplomatic when such things are necessary. But when the sword isn't an option, all there is, is diplomacy. That would probably make one more prone to see that side of things. "Makes sense. Though even a bandit might see reason, if someone talked to them nice enough," he reasons and continues to hold his post by the fire, occasionally stirring things with his foot or adding a bit more firewood.

Once more, Lysanor allows her brother to speak, explaining to the Tisbury giant about the various missions that they were tasked with and also her place in, at least, Acwel's task. Instead, she takes a drink from her goblet, a bit taken aback by the change in content, despite knowing full well that she was not being poured wine this time. What her brother decides not to state is what Lysanor, herself, informs Uwain, "I am also a healer." Her blue eyes look up to Cyndeyrn now as if he had forgotten this. "So I would think that often times, my skills would be of some necessity, but I put trust in my brother's words and his wisdom on this. Perhaps Sir Acwel's would be in greater need of my knowledge and experience."

"Your expertise will still be needed in my assignment, Lady Lysanor, I assure you. Especially how, as you said it yourself, you are a healer. Such skills assist greatly in long journeys to fiefs not our ownm" Acwel replies, smiling briefly at the redhead, "Still, I hope you take this time to make your preparations for it. Should you require, I can send my squire to assist in any errands you feel are beneath your notice." He drinks from his tankard, deeply, and eats some slices of meat from his bowl as he listens to the others.

"A healer? Oh, Sir Cyndeyrn, perhaps we could bring her, if nothing else, it'll give her a chance to decide not to volunteer for every cold and muddy trip that you decide to take, I am certain we could keep her safe," the big bearded youth speaks amiably, but not trying to push any sort of agenda. He's just suggesting that it isn't such a bad idea. Drinking a bit more from his tankard, he again wipes at his beard with his unused hand and draws away a bit of foam. "I think I wish to go for a ride, and then to see to my preparations!" he practically roars as he comes to a decision and smiles broadly to the others.

Dressed in black trimmed with resplendent silver, Caerwyn makes his way into the great hall of Sarum Castle with mild swagger, sauntering into the castle with a plate in his hand - on the plate is a string of grapes on the vine, which he idly picks at, feeding them into his mouth with a practiced grace. He is a man of leisure, with nowhere particularly pressing to attend to - why he's at Sarum Castle, of course, is a question of the duties placed on a vassal knight and lordling of the highest degree. He stops at the end of the table and then pops another grape into his mouth, before setting the plate down at the end of the table. "G'evening, lords, ladies and…" He pauses briefly and glances around the hall - miscellaneous servants hurrying to and fro, to fill ale glasses - "Others. May I join you?"

The Great Hall of Sarum is as busy as it ever is with all the Earl's guests, although a particular group is gathered near the hearth, enjoying their Lord's hospitality in the form of food and drink, and chatting on whatever topic, although it seems that may have come to some point of conclusion or at least a break to move on to other topics. Cyndeyrn himself goes on saying to Uwain: "Perhaps, although those who fall to banditry are usually those who have taken leave of good sense and reason in the first place. No clear-thinking man would offend his Lord's just rule to such extent as taking up arms and setting upon more honest folk. Justice demands one thing for such men: fair punishment. I would not deny them a chance to surrender, to come and be tried before their Lord and perhaps earn mercy in that fashion, but elsewise, there is only one thing for them." He will glance at Lysanor then and say, "If, God forbid, any of us are so gravely wounded as to need your care, most likely we would have to be brought back home to rest for some time, under your tender care." As Caerwyn arrives, well, now for once it seems that the large Dinton knight is not in a great mood to invite another to join them! "I believe we have finished eating."

To Acwel's kind words, Lysanor graces the man with a warming smile, "I would greatly appreciate the assistance. My handmaiden had started with my preparations, but seeing how long this particular journey is," And here, she shoots her big brother a look again, for this task of Acwel's would take them quite far still. "I am certain that I will need to pack even more, my medicines and bandages aside." That smile broadening a touch, she muses, "It honors me, Sir Acwel, that you put such faith in me and my skills. I truly look forward to traveling with both you and your sweet Lady Sister." Her eyes on Cyndeyrn once more, despite Uwain trying to plead for her case, Lyasnor knows that she cannot remain annoyed with her brother's decision and that she has a lot to look forward to, still. "I know, dearest brother. And I will ensure that there is space prepared in the case that there are injured being brought home." With Caerwyn's arrival, however, those blue eyes of hers watch him with some caution and despite their family differences, she does rise and graces him with a curtsy, being as polite as she can be, "It looks like we may be finishing up here, Sir Caerwyn. The food and especially the drink is very favorable, I am sure that you will enjoy the evening."

"Let us go for a ride to clear our heads. If any of you would join me, let us away, if not, I bid you a fair evening," Uwain proclaims to all and sundry, and though he makes no particular invites, it clearly includes all who had been there for the main course of conversation and drinking. Finishing off the last of his tankard, he puts it down on the table and nods to Caerwyn. "Good evening, sir! If you'd join me at riding, please do, but I feel like a good ride would loosen the humors," he tells the man and adjusts his belt as he heads toward the doors. His heavy boots can be heard as the enormous man strides from the hall.

"Ah, yes," Acwel finishes his tankard in a single go, slams it down on the table, and then sets on eating the rest of the food in his bowl quietly. When that's done, he agrees with Cyndeyrn, turning to watch the entrance of the black-and-silver clad Burcombe with the dulled gaze of… boredom? Or at least a sentiment similar to it. That dissipates when he looks back to Lysanor and he nods, meeting her gaze. "So do I, Lady Lysanor. I am sure that the road is fraught with some dangers, but that it will be an enlightening experience for all of us. It may be far, but getting to become familiar with another fiefdom is priceless."

"I do believe," Caerwyn says, catching Cynderyn's words about healing from Lysanor, "That the good Sir Dinton means he'd certainly want to be gravely wounded just to be put under your -tender- care, m'Lady." A tip of his head towards Lysanor, before Caerwyn introduces himself. "Sir Caerwyn de Burcombe. My claim to fame is that my twin sister knocked Sir Cyndeyrn down in fair melee and then proceeded to throttle him quite unfairly. Otherwise, I am known as heir apparent of Manor Burcombe, or 'The Damned Lesser of Two Evils'. Christians, they are such poets." He pronounces 'Christians' with three syllables - Kuh-rist-juns - and a degree of otherworldly culture.

To the rest of the table, he languidly allows a bemused smile to cross his lips. "But if you're hunting bandits - bandits are bad for business, per se, what's bad for business is bad for Manor Burcombe. Should you need assistance, there's no harm in asking. We do what we must against lawlessness, us Burcombes." He picks up another grape and then presses the plate forward. "Grapes, anybody? A grand dessert to finish a hearty meal, aye?" His emerald gaze scans the table, taking stock of Acwel and Uwain, before settling on both Cyndeyrn and Lysanor.

"Ah yes, a ride might do to clear the head a bit, and to get everything… all moving again," Cyndeyrn will agree, hauling himself up from where he has been settled all the while and maybe demonstrating, in the slight grunt that accompanies the movement, the very necessity of not remaining in that position for too long, especially with a belly full of food and mead. However, most any good spirit regarding a nice ride through the chill air is dispelled as Caerwyn comes and joins them anyway. "I'm not sure what you think you mean to suggest about my sister and her skills in healing, but I am sure I do not like it," he will say somewhat more curtly. "As for your sister, it was my cousin she knocked down, and indeed, proceeded to try and strike several times even though it was just an honorable bit of sporting match, as though she had forgotten that and wanted to kill him. As for me, I suppose she scored a few light touches on my shield, but then again, we were not swinging with any intent to injure. A good thing that we were not, I think, for her sake and your family's." He squares his shoulders a bit as he says this, standing at his full impressive stature, and then starts out. "As for your aid? I think I will do without it, given your family's reputation for sinfulness I am not sure you would not decide to make friends with any blackguards we encounter."

"The insinuations you made are rather disgraceful words to come out of a knight's mouth, Burcombe," Acwel states, sternly, setting the bowl onto the table as he stands up and fixes the position of his scabbard and straightens out his armor. "I wonder, how receptive would you be should someone insinuate the same things about your sister? Not that anyone would think there is anything delicate to Blood-Thirsty Catryn, of course." The Woodford comes to the defense of the Dintons, rather readily.

"All's well that ends well. The Devil that helps is better than the Angel that hinders, sometimes," Caerwyn says with a smirk.